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When thy bright Orb, beyond old Ocean's bound,
Through nether skies pursues its destin'd round, Lost in surrounding darkness, beauty fades; Through the blank field, and through the woodland spreads
A melancholy silence. O'er the plain
But when once more thy beam the north ascends,
ODE TO THE RISING SUN.
HAIL, orient Sun, auspicious light,
Behold it sparkle in the stream,
Mingle with thine its brilliancy!
The Zephyrs, while the woodlands ring,
Soft Sleep, and all his airy crew,
Their sport o'er Chloe peacefully!
Ye Zephyrs, haste-from every flower,
And, hov'ring round her fragrant bed,
And scent her tresses pleasingly!
Then gently whisper in her ear,
TO THE MOON.
REV. J. H. POTT.
O FAIREST Orb of heav'nly light,
When you your silver beams deny,
But when you rule, the shadowy train
And dimly, by thy light serene,
When thou art hence, the night-owl screams,
But when, fair Moon, you roll on high,
Oh, come then with thy clouds of snow,
Those stones Palemon's dust enclose,
Till, piercing through the deeper night
TO THE MORNING-STAR.
FROM chambers brighter than the day,
To gild with glory's op'ning ray,
Thou break'st upon the dazzled view
Thy rays illume the wat'ry waste,
And chase afar the fiend-like brood, That harrow'd up the ocean's breast,
And all night rode the boiling flood.
The sailor feels his bosom swell,
And hails thy lustre with a song; The Sea-nymphs smite the sounding shell, With joy, their coral caves among.
But, oh! thou bring'st no joy to me;
The day-spring crimson o'er the skies.
Yet I have lov'd, with ling'ring pace,
Where high the green hill lifts its head, To rove at vernal dawn, and trace
The new-born glories as they spread.
'Twas when for me the hamlet smil'd
Beneath the waving green-wood tree; When friendship all my cares beguil'd,
And love awoke my heart to glee.
But now no dear connubial home,
No friend shall ever bless me more, With many a weary step I roam,
An exile from my native shore!
Why should I joy in Phœbus' ray,
That leads me from the land I love.
TO THE EVENING-STAR.
ARISE, arise, thou queen of love!
O let me see thy golden breast,
Thy amber halo o'er the hill; And all the chambers of the west Thy coronal with glory fill !
O come! the evening colours fade;
Soft silence broods o'er lawn and lea; And Beauty, in the greenwood shade, Uplifts a longing eye for thee!
Thy temple be this sylvan bower,
Where wounded lovers kneel confest; Thy altar-cloth the daisy-flower;
Thy tabernacle Beauty's breast:
Be this thy dearest, holiest shrine,
Thy breviary two beaming eyes!-
O let thy spirit seek the glade,